Healing Autumn's Heart (Love Inspired) Read online

  She had recognized most of the people who’d stopped to view the scene today, which was to be expected, since Claremont was fairly small and most everyone knew everybody in town. In fact, merely a half hour ago, Mrs. Ivey, the librarian from the elementary school, stopped by with her husband. They’d come inside the toy store so they could get a better look at Hannah’s interpretation of Mr. Crowe’s shop. Mr. Ivey had marveled at the tiny black barber chair and laughed when he noticed the abundance of miniature newspapers and magazines scattered around the customer chairs. He’d been surprised to see that Hannah had even included a mini shaving brush with the barber tools on the counter and that it appeared to be covered in white foamy cream.

  “Look at the window,” Mrs. Ivey said, pointing.

  Hannah had taken a fine-tipped paint brush and written Crowe’s Barber Shop on the small rectangular window in bright white craft paint. She’d taken the time to walk down to the shop, copy the cursive style of the writing on the actual window and then mimic that font on her dollhouse replica. The little details were what made a scene special, and Hannah loved adding those unique tidbits to the display.

  “Isn’t it amazing that you can get that kind of detail in a dollhouse?” Mr. Ivey had said.

  Hannah and Mr. Feazell, who made sure to visit with each person that came in to see the display, both agreed.

  Mr. and Mrs. Ivey’s admiration cemented the fact that the scene had the impact Hannah desired on folks that viewed the tiny town. In fact, the two of them recalled the day Mr. Crowe opened his barbershop sixty years ago, when they were merely dating teenagers, accomplishing her personal goal of stirring up memories. She hadn’t missed the way Mr. Ivey wrapped an arm around his wife and squeezed her tenderly at that shared memory.

  Hannah sighed. One day she’d have someone look at her that way, hold her close like that. She’d make memories with a man that she loved, memories that they could share for a lifetime. In other words, she’d have exactly what her mother had wished for on the day she died.

  Have mercy, she couldn’t wait. God, if it be Your will, don’t make me wait too long.

  Hannah was still imagining that day, that man, when she had the strong sensation that she was being watched. That was the thing about working in windows. She was on display, too.

  Turning, she found a beautiful little girl, her long brown curls pulled up in two pigtails and her dark eyes sparkling as she gazed toward the window. Pulling on the hand of her father, she edged closer. Hannah smiled at her reaction and was instantly proud that her display had caused such palpable enthusiasm in this child.

  The little girl pointed at Hannah and said something to her father, who seemed genuinely mesmerized by his daughter. He was totally absorbed by her every word, as though there was nothing more important in the world than what she had to say.

  Hannah’s heart tugged at the scene. She crooked her finger and motioned for them to come inside and see the display, not only because she wanted the little girl to have a better view, but also because she wanted to get a firsthand look at the closeness these two shared.

  A pang shot to Hannah’s heart as they made their way around the side of the window and through the toy store’s front door. When Hannah was about that little girl’s age, she had spent afternoons at the square with her father. Daddy-daughter days, that’s what he’d called it back then. She’d also had her mommy-and-me days with her mom, and then the entire family would have family fun days, which included Hannah’s older sister Jana. Daddy-daughter, mommy-and-me and family fun days had consumed Hannah’s existence as a child.

  When she was thirteen all of that changed, and their family had never been the same.

  She blinked a couple of times, sniffed back the emotion that occasionally pressed its way to the surface with old memories, and found another smile for them as they passed through the curtain separating the display window from the rest of the store.

  “Hi,” Hannah said, primarily to the little girl, since she was still on her knees and the girl was eye level. “What’s your name?”

  She was even prettier than Hannah had realized, her dark eyes framed with a bounty of even darker lashes and her skin as smooth as the porcelain dolls in the toy store’s wooden curios.

  She gave Hannah a shy smile then stepped forward. “I’m Autumn.”

  Hannah heard her father’s deep inhalation and glanced up to see the man staring at the two of them. His face was filled with something close to awe, and Hannah wondered why he was so affected by her interaction with his little girl. Evidently he realized that Hannah noticed his reaction and that her attention was now on him.

  “I’m Matt Graham,” he said, and a light chuckle found its way into his words. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m just—” he visibly swallowed “—very happy right now.” He cleared his throat, shook his head then ran a hand through black wavy hair. “I’m sure that doesn’t make a lot of sense, but Autumn hasn’t smiled—” another clearing of his throat “—hasn’t been this happy in quite a while, and I can’t tell you what this means.”

  Matt Graham. She’d heard the name recently, but couldn’t place it. However, it wasn’t his name that held her interest. It was his statement. His little girl— Autumn—hadn’t been happy in quite a while. She seemed happy now, beaming at Hannah.

  “Well, Autumn, do you like the dollhouses?” Hannah asked.

  The little girl opened her mouth, then closed it and smiled again. And Hannah realized that she’d barely noticed the dollhouses since entering the display area. Instead, she seemed more interested in…Hannah.

  Hannah glanced up at Autumn’s father and found herself drawn to the easy smile he had for his daughter, to the sky-blue eyes bordered with thick black lashes, and to the fact that those eyes glistened with emotion for his little girl. He was a striking man, not only in appearance but in the unharnessed emotion that seemed to shine from his very soul.

  She silently told herself to get a grip. He was this little girl’s father, a lady’s husband, and Hannah had no right to notice his eyes, or his smile, or the way that his love for his little girl made her own heart flutter. One day, she’d have a husband and a child, and her husband would look at their son or daughter that way, the way he looked at his daughter now.

  “Autumn? Do you like the dollhouses?” he asked, in an obvious effort to get her to respond to Hannah’s question.

  “Yes,” she whispered, but again, she didn’t look at the houses. And her next words didn’t have anything to do with them at all. “You’re like Mommy.” Her dark eyes grew wider, and she moved closer to Hannah. Then she reached out and gently, with a feather-soft touch, as though she didn’t know whether Hannah was real, pressed small fingers against Hannah’s cheek. “You’re like her.”

  Hannah didn’t move, didn’t breathe. The child was so embraced in the moment that she didn’t dare break the connection.

  Then Autumn’s mouth quivered, and she blinked. “I miss her. I miss her every day.”

  Hannah looked up to the man who stood grounded to the spot and whose eyes were definitely wet now. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. And Hannah didn’t need him to. She’d been around that look of sadness enough to know. Autumn, this precious little girl with eyes that appeared as though they’d seen a lifetime worth of sorrow, had already lost her mother.

  Hannah fought for composure and attempted to keep her own feelings at bay, since her mind immediately catapulted to that day twelve years ago when she told her own mother goodbye for the last time. This little girl was so young. Hannah had been thirteen and still struggled each day to understand why her mother was gone. Autumn appeared to be five or six, about the same age as the children Hannah taught in her class at church.

  God, please help her. And help me to help her. I know how much it hurts to lose a mom.

  Autumn’s palm was still on Hannah’s cheek when Mr. Feazell drew back the curtain and announced, “Hannah, guess what? I found some!
”

  The little girl dropped her hand, and Hannah took a deep breath, the intense moment broken.

  “Oh, hi,” Mr. Feazell said to the pair. “I didn’t hear the bell, didn’t realize we had people checking out the display. How do you like it?”

  Matt Graham nodded to the toy store owner, but only took his eyes away from Hannah and Autumn for the slightest second before looking back at them and answering, “It’s amazing.”

  Hannah had no doubt that he wasn’t talking about the dollhouse display.

  “I know,” Mr. Feazell said, completely unaware of the dual conversation taking place. “Hannah ran the idea by me, and I thought it’d be good, but I had no idea…” He shook his head. “It’s uncanny how much it looks like the real square, isn’t it? Hannah has a knack at really touching the heart of things, don’t you think?”

  “Definitely,” Matt Graham answered.

  Again, Hannah knew for certain that he wasn’t talking about the dollhouses. And she had touched the heart of something here, but she didn’t quite know what. All she knew was that this little girl had been sad, but now she seemed happy.

  And as a result, so did the compelling man standing before her.

  “Well, Hannah, I finally found these. They’ll make it even more authentic for sure.” Mr. Feazell stretched out his hand to display a palm filled with tiny geese.

  Hoping to ease the tension in the room, Hannah gave Autumn a soft smile, then reached for the gaggle of geese in Mr. Feazell’s hand. “They look perfect.”

  “I thought they’d be a nice touch since, you know, those geese are always hanging around. Hey, maybe you can even put some folks on benches around a fountain and maybe have some bread on the ground in front of the birds. Now that would be realistic, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes, it would,” Hannah agreed.

  Mr. Feazell tilted his head and curled his lower lip in as he studied the little girl’s father. “You look familiar,” he said, tapping his chin, “but you’re not from Claremont, are you?” Then, before he could answer, Mr. Feazell snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute. I remember. You’re the new doctor in town, aren’t ya? Over at the General Physicians Building, right?”

  “Yes, I am. Nice to meet you,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Matt Graham.”

  Hannah now knew why his name had sounded familiar. She’d read the article in the paper about the new doctor in town and had been happy to learn that Claremont had a physician with “big city experience,” as the paper had defined it, since he’d previously practiced medicine in Atlanta. She’d also been surprised at how young he’d looked, and how undeniably handsome. She’d seen her share of doctors over the years and none of them had looked anything like Matt Graham.

  “Ted Feazell,” Mr. Feazell said, shaking his hand. “I own the Tiny Tots Treasure Box.”

  “You have a nice store here.”

  “Thanks,” Mr. Feazell answered. “Hey, I hear you’re doing a good job over there at the center. I saw the write-up in the paper. Come from Atlanta, right?”

  Obviously, Hannah wasn’t the only one impressed that an experienced doctor had moved to town.

  “Yes.” He didn’t offer anything more than that, and Mr. Feazell didn’t press the issue.

  “Well, we’re glad you found your way to our little neck of the woods. Claremont is small, that’s for sure, but it’s got everything you need.”

  Matt Graham nodded and glanced at Autumn, now tenderly touching one of the geese in Hannah’s hand. “I’m glad we found our way here, too.” He smiled. “Very glad.”

  Hannah’s skin tingled with his smile, and she wondered what had really brought Matt Graham—Dr. Graham—and his little girl to Claremont. Surely a doctor from Atlanta would know that there wouldn’t be nearly as many patients in a town as small as Claremont.

  But more than wondering why the new doctor had come to town, Hannah also wondered how long it had been since he lost his wife and since Autumn had been without her mother. She had said that Hannah was “like Mommy.” What did that mean? Did Hannah favor her mother? And if she did, would it really be smart for Hannah to try to help her? What if she got confused and actually thought that Hannah was her mother? And if Hannah did favor Autumn’s mother, then didn’t that mean that she also favored Matt Graham’s wife?

  She glanced at him, still looking directly at her with those sky-blue eyes, dark black lashes, mesmerizing smile. She’d been with her sister that day, when the article had come out in the paper. Jana had pointed to the photo and playfully asked if Hannah felt a cold or cough coming on. Or any other reason for her to go visit the town’s attractive new physician.

  Hannah realized she was staring, and what’s more, so was he. She jerked her attention to the geese in her hand and asked, a little too loudly, “Autumn, would you like to put them by the fountain?”

  Mr. Feazell chuckled. “Hannah, maybe you’ve been working too long. I haven’t brought you the fountain yet. Remember, I wanted to try to find that three-tiered one, so it’d be like the one in the square?”

  Hannah looked at the empty spot in the middle of the display where the fountain should go and felt the blood rush to her cheeks.

  The old man laughed again and glanced over his shoulder. “You know, I did see another box of the miniature accessories in the middle of the store. Maybe that’s where that fountain is. Tell you what, Autumn. That’s your name isn’t it—Autumn?”

  She nodded, her long curls bobbing with the action.

  “Would you like to come look at all of the things we have for dollhouses and maybe help me find that fountain for the display? I bet Hannah might even let you put the geese around it, assuming we find it okay.” He grinned. “Sound good?”

  Hannah knew Mr. Feazell was merely conducting business in his own way, showing off the toys that he thought would most appeal to the little girl. But Autumn smiled, and her father did too.

  “Would you like to go look at the dollhouse things and try to help Mr. Feazell find that fountain?” he asked.

  Autumn nodded, pressed her fingertips against Hannah’s cheek again then turned to the toy store owner. Mr. Feazell grinned and held open the curtain for her to pass through, and Matt Graham gently patted her back as they left.

  “I love you, honey,” he said.

  Autumn paused. She looked at him, then at Hannah, and then at her daddy again. “I love you, too.”

  One hand moved to Matt Graham’s chin and stayed there as he watched Autumn walk away with Mr. Feazell.

  The display area, which had seemed expansive all morning as she situated the mass of dollhouses, suddenly grew smaller as Hannah realized that she and Dr. Matt Graham were now alone.

  She cleared her throat and stood, her knees popping loudly from kneeling so long. He didn’t seem to notice and appeared more intent to use this opportunity to talk to her than to comment on her noisy joints.

  “Your name is Hannah?” he asked.

  She was a little embarrassed at the fact that she hadn’t thought to introduce herself. “Yes, Hannah Taylor.”

  He shifted the curtain aside and glanced into the store. Then he let the thin navy fabric fall back into place. “I didn’t want her to hear,” he said softly. “But I want to explain.” He breathed in, let it out. “Autumn hasn’t smiled and has barely spoken since we lost her mother. So when she smiled at you, when she spoke to you…” He pulled the curtain aside and glanced at his daughter again, then turned back to Hannah. “It was like watching a miracle. It’s been two years.”

  Two years.

  “Do I look like her mother?” In Hannah’s mind, that was the only reasonable answer for why the child would have come out of her shell today.

  But he shook his head. “No. Rebecca had long curly red hair.” He smiled, obviously remembering his wife. “And lots of freckles.” Then his eyes seemed to be drawn to Hannah’s shirt, or more precisely, to the small pin on her left chest. “Rebecca had breast cancer.”

  Hannah swallowed
past the lump in her throat, and her hand instinctively moved to the pink ribbon pin. “You think she saw my pin from out there?”

  “I don’t know, but somehow you reminded her of Rebecca.” He indicated the pin. “You’re a survivor, aren’t you? You’ve had breast cancer, too.” His eyes moved to her short hair, still growing back from her last round of chemo and radiation.

  “I am. Actually, my sister and I are both survivors,” Hannah said, always finding it easy to smile with the thrill that they were both in remission now. “But we also lost our mother to breast cancer, like Autumn. So I know how much it hurts.”

  He tilted his head, curiosity at Autumn’s awareness still evident on his face. “Well, for some reason, she was drawn to you. Whether it was the pin or not, I can’t say. But you got more words from her in the last ten minutes than three child psychologists did in two years.” He paused. “Or than I have, since her mama died.”

  Hannah remembered her silent prayer, asking God to let her help this little girl. He’d undoubtedly granted her request. “Maybe because I’m meant to help her? God has His plans, you know.”

  That made him smile, and Hannah couldn’t deny the impact that his smile had on her heart.

  “Just now, when she told me that she loved me…” He inhaled, let it out, and seemed too overwhelmed to finish.

  “She hasn’t told you that she loves you,” Hannah said, “in two years?”

  He shook his head, looked as though he wanted to say more, but remained silent.

  “Bless your heart,” Hannah whispered.

  He stepped closer. “I know this will sound a little odd, but I think maybe you’re right. Maybe the reason I picked this town, the reason Autumn and I are here, is because of you.”

  Hannah’s mind reeled with the statement. What was she supposed to do now? What was she supposed to say?

  Thankfully, his laughter broke through her dilemma. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how that made you feel. It’s just that I’ve been hoping, praying for a breakthrough for so long, and then all of a sudden, out of nowhere, here you are, and Autumn speaks. And smiles. It’s… Well, I’d have to say it’s an answered prayer. And in all honesty, I haven’t prayed a lot in the past two years. Didn’t really have a reason to trust in the power of it anymore.”